“Five shots apiece with rifles, six with shot-guns, and I will keep the score,” announced the captain, adding, “and the one who does the poorest cleans the guns.”
One after another the young men stepped to the rail and fired without a rest, with either rifle or shot-gun, as the case might be. Although the captain, who watched the target through a glass, would announce no results until the contest was ended, Phil saw so many splashes in the water while others were shooting, that though he was unable to judge of his own work, he was almost certain the gun cleaning of that day would not fall to him.
To his dismay, when the contest was ended, the captain, who had kept the score in a blank-book, declared that out of the eleven shots fired by each Ike Croly had scored nine hits and two misses, Oro Dunn eight hits and three misses, and Phil Ryder five hits and six misses. “You therefore may take the guns forward and clean ’em,” he said to Phil. “And I must say I expected better work from you, judging by the way you bragged yesterday.”
Phil could not understand it. He could not remember having shot so poorly as that in years. His defeat was the harder to bear on account of Captain Duff’s scornful words and the triumphant looks of the other hunters, who, as he had seen from the first, were intensely jealous of him. Still, there was nothing to be said or done, and gathering up the guns he went forward to clean them. He was resolved, however, that when the time came for real action he would show those two who could bring in the most seal-skins, which was exactly the result that shrewd Captain Duff wished to obtain.
By the time the young hunter finished his task the morning was well spent, and he was beginning to sniff with some interest the savory odors of cooking that came from the galley. As he carried the cleaned guns into the cabin and placed them in their racks, he was glad to see that Ebenezer was setting the table for dinner.
When he again went on deck the captain ordered him to bail out the boat that was towing astern. Looking over the rail, Phil noticed for the first time that one of the three light whale-boats carried by the schooner was indeed towing astern by a short painter. He could discover no way of getting into her save by sliding down the rope by which she was held, and he wondered if the feat were possible. His hesitation was but momentary, however, for he saw that his hunter rivals and several of the crew were watching him curiously.
So the lad swung himself over the rail, and tightly clutching the rope with both hands and feet, slid downward. As he reached the boat, his weight resting on the bow caused it to sheer so abruptly that he was very nearly flung into the eddying water, but with a violent effort he managed to fling himself at full length into the bottom of the uneasy craft. As he scrambled up he saw, to his dismay, that the forward plug was missing, and through the half-inch hole thus left in the boat’s bottom a stream of water was spirting viciously. Acting more from instinct than from knowledge he made his way hurriedly to the after end. Thus his weight sank the stern and at the same time lifted the bow, so that the volume of water entering the boat was very considerably diminished. Here [he found a wooden bailer, with which he set vigorously to work].
[“HE FOUND A BAILER WITH WHICH HE SET VIGOROUSLY TO WORK”]
After a few minutes of this he bethought himself that some one might toss him a plug from the schooner, and he hailed the deck at the top of his voice. Although he shouted until he was hoarse, he received no answer, nor could he catch a glimpse of a human being on board the craft behind which he was towing. No one came to look at him over the rail, and she might have been sailing of her own accord at her own sweet will for aught that he could see of life or guiding intelligence. One thing he did discover, however, which was that the rope by which he was towing had been so lengthened that his boat was now twice the distance from the schooner it had been when he entered it.